


5+1: Happy Moments

by Toinette93



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, All my queen fics end up including hugs, Concerts, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Not Beta Read, Photography, Touring, but it's Freddie so we know, might be a bit Brian and Roger centric, very little angst, will definitely include hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21547843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toinette93/pseuds/Toinette93
Summary: 5 times the Queen members were happy together and 1 time the surviving members were happy despite loss.So basically I wanted to do something cute and happy and fluffy for around the time of Freddie Mercury's death and that's it.It's just the boys being nice to each other, having fun, and conforting each other when needed. Chapters are set mostly in the 70's with some Magic Tour and 2000s for the last two chapters. Hope you enjoy !
Comments: 13
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Tokyo, 1975**

The Queen members were giggling, while trying to catch their breaths, leaning on a wall in a street of Tokyo. Roger was wheezing a bit.

“You all right, Rog?” asked Freddie

“Yeah, just need to catch my breath”

“You would not be that out of breath if you stopped smoking, you know” commented Brian who was only faring a little better.

“Oh, do shut up, Brian” quipped the drummer.

Freddie was still giggling

“Oh, god! I can’t believe we actually had to run from groupies. I feel like the Beatles right now.”

Brian smiled “Our drummer almost attracts more attention than Ringo, I would say”

“This is crazy” Roger added, “They were pretty quick too, I think we are safe though”

“Wait a minute!”asked Freddie “Where is John?”

“Oh, no we lost John to crazed fans, they are going to eat him alive” commented Roger, dramatically.

Brian’s brow furrowed, but before he had time to say anything, his starting worry was assuaged by a well-known voice

“Fred, Roger, Brian, come here! I think I found a shop to hide in”

The three men followed the voice, and John was showing them the door to a small shop. They got in, following their bassist, trying to suppress the last traces of their giggle, which Roger found particularly hard to do. The small shop was extremely cluttered. It was an antique shop, full of a lot of beautiful things. Brian was a bit scared to break something and moved his tall body with a lot of care, hunched a little because of the low ceiling. His slight discomfort was quickly forgotten though, from hearing Freddie’s small squeal of pleasure at discovering the shop.

“This is so wonderful, darling” he said, talking to John “You could not have found a better place to hide”. The singer started looking around intently, and the others also looked at things in the shop, albeit a bit less enthusiastically. Less noisily so, at any rate: John had located an electronics section and was very much enthralled.

Freddie was soon completely taken by a small porcelain statue of a cat he had noticed on a shelf. It was absolutely perfect in his opinion, and Freddie could not help but want to buy it, despite not knowing how much it cost, since no prices seemed to be written down. He picked up the piece, turning it around. Brian was wondering if a shopkeeper would show up anytime soon.

As if on cue, he noticed an old Japanese woman entering the shop from a back door. Then he heard a sound of someone tapping on someone else’s shoulder, Roger’s voice: “Hey, Fred, found something?” then a distressed squeal apparently coming from Freddie. He saw the expression of panic on the shopkeeper’s faced and turned around.

Freddie had been looking at the small statue when Roger tapped his shoulder, causing him to jerk. The statue fell to the ground, as well as a few other ones on the nearby shelf, hit by the singer’s elbow. He was frozen on the spot. Roger’s drumming reflexes kicked in however, and before anyone else had had time to do anything, he had intact statues in his hands, and the cat effigie Freddie had been eying was balanced on his right foot. He managed to get them all in one piece on the shelf, Freddie picking up the cat and cradling it to his chest. Brian heard the sigh of relief from the shopkeeper, who started walking towards them. John, who had been taken from his contemplation smirked and commented:

“Well, Roger, if Rock n’Roll does not work out, you would get a spot as a juggler in a circus with that act”

Before Roger had had time to retort anything to that, Freddie had made his way to the shopkeeper, still holding the little cat statue.

“Good afternoon, ma’am, sorry for almost breaking things in your shop. I would like to know the price of this absolutely stunning little piece of art”

The woman answered something in rapid Japanese. They four boys looked at each other. None of them spoke the language.

“Excuse me, do you speak English?” asked Freddie.

The woman shook her head obviously not understanding. They had to be without any interpreter right now, of all time, he thought.

John put a hand on Freddie’s shoulder, suggesting to abandon the attempt at buying something they were not sure they could afford on their still somewhat tight budget, himself putting the electronics he had found back on the shelf.

Seeing the desperation in Freddie’s eyes, Brian tried hard to recall the few words of Japanese he had actually learnt on the plane, bored as he had been while the other slept, and managed to find a somewhat appropriate, albeit probably not polite enough way to say what they needed to say:

“Ikuradesu ka?”

He asked, in a very hesitant tone, really unsure of what he was saying - he hoped it was "how much is it" pointing at the small statue. The shopkeeper seemed to understand however, and gave and answer, but Brian had not idea what it had been. He smiled awkwardly in incomprehension, then had an idea. He took a pencil and paper that were on the desk and gave them to the woman, still smiling, hoping she would understand what he meant. She did, and wrote a number on the piece of paper. Brian gave the paper to Freddie. He personally thought it was a bit high for what it was, but the singer passed the money over without a second thought. The woman bowed slightly and they awkwardly bowed back, still not very used to this social norm. The woman carefully packed the statue, and gave it to Freddie, and they left the shop.

Thanks to John’s impeccable sense of directions – when he was sober anyway – they managed to get back to their hotel without encountering anymore screaming fans, which Roger kind of resented, if he was quite honest with himself. Although, he could not help but enjoy the obvious happiness that was sketched upon their singer’s face, and also visible through the spring in his step.

“You like your purchase then, Fred” he asked

“Oh, it is absolutely stunning, dear. Thank you for not letting it break down on the ground, although you got it to fall in the first place. And thank you John for finding the shop, and you Brian, for translating, I did not know you could speak Japanese”

“You’re welcome Fred, anytime, but I don’t really. I’ll be glad to have our interpreter again”

In the evening they chatted together in Fred’s room after their day. For once, they all agreed on something: they were fully enjoying their first Japanese tour.


	2. Chapter 2

**Winter 1977, somewhere in the Midwest**

It was freezing cold and they were waiting outside for their ride to arrive. It was beginning to snow. It was late. Freddie had gone to discuss with the crew a possibility to get somewhere warm in the meantime. Roger was utterly miserable. He was cold, he was slightly hungover and he had no idea where exactly they were, the whole tour merging together, a cold midwestern town undistinguishable from the next. Wait a minute, where were Brian and John? He turned around and saw a chipper looking John walking from where their luggage had been toward Brian who looked even colder than himself. What John was carrying did not look like an extra layer of clothing, however.

Brian was almost regretting not wearing a fur coat. Almost. He still had principles, even in freezing temperatures, and besides he was not sure a fur coat would have really helped all that much. He was just too skinny for that kind of cold. The hair helped as long as it did not get wet, but the snow that was slowly starting to fall, adding to the existing thick layer on the ground was going to suppress that small advantage. The only one of them who seemed to be fairing well in that weather was John, who was coming back from somewhere with a mischievous smile on his face. Brian looked up, and saw his bandmate carrying a camera. A stereo camera to be precise. His face lit up. It was always nice to share this passion with his bandmate, although he was NOT going to get his gloves off to take a picture. John had no such qualms. He took a picture of the freezing guitar player before saying anything then added:

“I think it would be fun to create some stereoscopic ghosts in the snow, don’t you?”

Brian nodded and they started to set up. The technicalities of the shoot were discussed at length and soon both musicians had forgotten about the cold. John, who had been extremely bored, fairly cold, and had started to think about how much he missed his wife and kids, had found the perfect distraction, without even the use of alcohol, and had he thought about anything other than where to find a laser pointer and a delay mechanism to draw horns on Brian in the next picture, he would have been very proud of himself.

Freddie walked back towards Roger who was looking at the other two with slight amusement and a quizzical look.

“So?” He asked the singer.

“We have to wait here for a little while longer, the car should be here soon. The snow is slowing it down”

“Bummer”

“What are the other two doing?” Freddie ask, slightly bewildered at the scene in front of them, which did include Brian helping John climb on top of a rock that was covered in ice, while speaking very quickly.

“Taking stereo pictures I think.”

“Oh”

They were silent for a while. Then, Brian was the one climbing on a rock, towering on the scene, looking even more of a perfect target than usual. Roger and Freddie exchanged a look. Without having to talk they agreed, and Freddie quickly made a snowball and hurled it at their guitar player. He was hit straight in the face, but not before a perfectly timed snap from John.

“Nice 3D picture, there Fred” said the bass player, before retreating to put away the camera before joining the fray.

It soon turned into an all out battle, and teams were formed between Roger and Freddie against Brian and John, a somewhat unusual but very efficient alliance. The two guitar players had the best 3D vision of the lot, and their throw were more precise. Freddie was pretty good too, but he and Brian maybe lacked the aggressivity that John and of course Roger displayed. The drummer compensated the fact that without glasses he basically did not see his opponents with being quick and literally in their faces with the snow balls. The alliances did not last forever though, as John hurled a well aimed snowball directly in his bandmate and ally’s face, soon followed by Freddie throwing one at Roger. At that point there were no rules. Balls were flowing everywhere, some members of the crew had joined in, it was utter chaos.

Freddie often hid behind Roger who grumbled and let him do it then ran into the biggest snowballs for fun. Brian was completely disheveled and with all the snow in his hair kind of looked like a tree. John was laughing like a maniac, his art of being unassuming very useful in that kind of battle as he surprised his opponents, putting snow in the back of their coats.

He walked to Brian and did exactly that. The guitar player reacted a bit suddenly, and hit the bassist squarely in the face with his elbow, throwing him in a snowdrift. John was slightly dizzy and took a few seconds to catch himself back up, and was helped by Brian, who had a very apologetical look on his face:

“I’m so sorry, John, are you alright?”

These words stopped the ongoing battle that was starting to wind down anyhow.

“I’m ok, Bri, don’t worry. You do have a pointy elbow, you know” he added holding his jaw.

Brian huffed but a look of concern was still etched on his face.

“I swear, I’m fine” added John, and he was grinning.

At this moment, the long awaited car arrived, and the four rockers got into it. They noticed that they were completely drenched, and they had to strip down to their underwear and get into blankets in the car that thankfully had a very good heating system. John and Brian sat on one side, Roger and Freddie on the other. The two guitar players were soon asleep. John was grinning in his sleep, his tooth gap in plain view, and Brian had his head leaning on the window, hair wrapped in a towel. John’s head soon fell on his shoulder, and Brian’s arm wrapped around his youngest bandmate’s shoulders, for protection and warmth. Freddie and Roger laughed, those two were absolutely adorable. Although, when they arrived at their destination, the sight of Roger having fallen asleep on Freddie’s laps provoked the same type of reaction from Brian and John who had woken up quicker.


	3. Chapter 3

**1978**

It was sometime in the small hours of the night, somewhere in the world. Roger was pretty sure he was supposed to know where, but he had no recollection. This might have had something to do with the large quantities of alcohol he had consumed. Or the cocaine. Well, probably both. He was stumbling down from the room he had planned to go to sleep in, there was already someone – or was it something?, well, neither, really, an animal – on the bed, that had refused to move. He could have moved it or just crashed there, but it somehow felt wrong. He needed his bandmates to help him convince whatever that was to move. He wanted that bed. He still somehow had to make his way to the party and find them. He was not low on energy but his gait was a bit uncertain, and he did bump into the wall a few times.

A slightly less high, and far less joyous Freddie had also just made his way back into the party room and sort of plopped down on an empty chair in there. He had hoped to keep on going for a while to help him forget the frankly disappointing attempt at sex that had just happened upstairs – the man he was planning to have sex with had been drunker than Freddie had thought and had just fallen asleep before they had gotten anywhere, and even if he could have waken him up, he did not feel comfortable fucking someone who was that drunk in the first place. A bit more partying would have been nice, but it seemed like that was not going to happen. The party had still been going on when he had left, but it seemed to have very much ended. Everyone seemed to be passed out or to have gone, and a eery silence had replace the erstwhile frantic noise. There were empty bottles and various objects scattered everywhere which did not do anything to lift the singer’s mood. Glancing vacantly at the room, he recognized John in the small ball of limbs huddled under a nearby table, hugging one of the table’s feet. A bit further away, the unmistakable expand of hair of their guitar player was sprawled on a chair, although Brian’s head was the only thing that was actually on the chair, the man himself was awkwardly laying on the floor, partly drenched in what appeared to be beer. Freddie had a look around but could not place Roger anywhere. He guessed their drummer had probably found himself someone to spend the night with. Before he had time to look for their roadies, his last hypotheses was proved to have been wrong by a loud and obviously intoxicated Roger barging into the room.

“Freddie!” he said, noticing the singer first, as he was the only upright presence in the room. “There is something on my bed. I need y-- all of you to help me get it off!” He proclaimed.

And before the singer’s muddled brain had had any time to muster an appropriate response to this weird request, the drummer had moved to his second most visible target, Brian:

“Briiiiii!!!! Wake uuuupp”, he slurred. Then, not getting any answer for the sleeping guitarist, he grabbed a bottle of water that was lying around, drank some, put it on the floor next to his friend, and stared at him, thinking. He had his head slightly tilted to the side in concentration.

Freddie was looking at his friend’s actions, getting pretty amused, and thinking that helping with whatever weird shenanigans the drummer had in mind would probably prove more fun than anything else that was likely to happen in this dead party.

Roger having looked for quite a while apparently got an idea. He took the guitar player head in his hand, with more care than should had been possible in his intoxicated state and got it away from its uncomfortable position on the chair into his lap. Then he very gently started to tap the man’s head with his finger, in a rhythm that could have been a somewhat sluggish rendition of one oh his drum solos.

“Wake up, Brimi! Why were you sleeping like that on that chair, you are going to hurt your neck, you know.” He tapped a little more and then the guitar player opened his eyes, pretty confused as to what was going on. He was probably the least drunk of the four band members, although that was not for lack of trying. It was also not a very high bar. He had fallen asleep before being quite as sloshed as he would have normally gotten at one of these parties, having been pretty tired the day before. He was pretty sure he had fallen asleep on a chair, not on the floor or in Roger’s arm.

“Roger?” he asked

“Briiiiii, hello!” the drummer handed him a bottle of water that Brian thankfully accepted, drinking from it. It was pretty obvious Roger was very very drunk but apart from that he had no idea what was going on. He looked at Freddie, who was just a bit further away, quizzically, but the older man just shrugged. Then Roger started talking. His speech was slurred and he sounded a little bit like a whining child.

“I need your help, Briiiiiaaan.”

Brian chuckled.

“What with Rog?”

“There’s an animal on my bed, and it won’t go away. Can you all help me.”

“What kind of animal?”

“I don’t know. But we need John, where is John?”

Brian was still drunk enough to find Roger pretty funny. He looked around and recognized John, hugging a table.

“He’s there, Rog” he pointed “but he seems to be passed out”.

“Fred?” asked the drummer

“All right, all right!” said the singer, and while Brian and Roger helped each other on their feet, Freddie walked to the prone bass player. He crouched to reach him under the table, uncoiled him from it, and then, finding it to be the easiest way, just moved the table somewhere else to get better access to his bandmate. All the movement had not waken him up completely, but he did stir a bit. Freddie gently squeezed his shoulder and asked him

“Wake up John, Roger wants to show us something”

“Mmmm” was the only answer Freddie got.

“Come on, John”

Something that could have been “All right” came from the bass player’s mouth and then he propped himself upwards, and latched onto Freddie’s arms, hugging him and leaning on him for support, not letting him move. Brian helped Freddie with his armful of a John Deacon and they half carried each other to the room that Roger miraculously found again.

When they got there, they all sat on the floor – well three of them sat. John just sort of fell on the others and started sleeping again. Roger pointed them the bed. There was in fact, a small animal on it. Freddie had hoped it would be a cat, but it definitely wasn’t. Mammal, certainly, but as to what it was precisely he could not tell. “Brian, what is it?” he asked. Brian was quite sure he should have known but right now the only thing that came to his mind was Orion, and he was pretty sure it was the name for a constellation and not an animal. Wrong folder, it would seem. He just shrugged. “Dunno” He said. Then in a moment of clarity he added. “We are all pretty drunk. We should not touch it, might hurt it.”

“But it’s on my bed!” whined Roger.

“We’ll have to persuade it to move, then darling”

“We could make a lot of noise” suggested John, surprising everyone, before starting to snore lightly again.

“No!” protested Brian. “We don’t want to scare it, poor thing”

“We’ll make music then, it will come to listen to it, and we will get the bed that way”, Roger said, putting a little cushion on the side as a make-shift bed for their intended audience of one nondescript small animal

“Oh, brilliant idea dear!”

“We don’t have our instruments, though” commented Brian, defeated.

“We’ll just sing them then” suggested Roger.

Somehow, and it was a testament to how drunk they all were, no one found any valid objection to that, and so they started to do just that, starting with Drowse, as it seemed an appropriate choice, and as it was Roger’s idea to begin with. John was not singing, and so the song lacked a bass line. That was quickly solved when Freddie softly jostled the bass player, who started to hum his bass part without apparently waking up. The result was surprisingly harmonious, and they kept on going.

Their plan even worked, as the small animal did get down from the bed to listen, but by the time it did, they had forgotten the whole point of their endeavour, and they ended up falling asleep sprawled on the floor. Brian’s hair may or may not have ended up being used as a bed by the small creature. It had left when they woke up the next day, with fond and surprisingly complete memories and a raging hangover from the night before.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people !  
> So this chapter is the one the "slight angst" was tagged for. It is still pretty cute and silly though (hopefully).   
> Enjoy

**July 1979, Munich**

John had noticed something was off with their guitar player, well as with the rest of them really, the hours in the studio and excessive partying were getting to all of them, but Brian did not simply looked high and weary at the same time, the way Freddie, Roger, and he assumed, himself, did. He looked worn out and sad, and seemed to have lost some weight. He wondered what had happened. Freddie was pretty busy dealing with a heartache of his own by writing a song, so John did not know if he had noticed anything, although he had sent some look the lanky man’s way. He was pretty sure Roger had noticed though, because even though he still fought with the guitar player in the studio, he seemed to have magically gotten some restraint. Roger still yelled and occasionally threw stuff, but even at his angriest he managed to keep his remarks mostly artistic and not personal. John smiled at the thought. As unlikely as it sounded, the drummer could be quite thoughtful in his own way sometimes. John sipped his coffee. He was having breakfast, waiting for the others: they had decided to have breakfast together before getting to work earlier than they had in the previous weeks. Well, relatively earlier, it was 11am.

Freddie soon joined John in the breakfast room, shortly followed by Roger and a somewhat unusually late Brian. They went to the studio to start working, and John, taken into the day’s craziness, did not have any time to wonder further about his friend’s state.

Brian was well, not at his best. If he had had to describe it, he would probably have said numb. He felt like the whole word was slightly out of focus and not in an enjoyable way. He still played guitar, wrote songs – his inspiration had not been at its best lately but still – and went to party, but he felt he was just going through the motions, not being really there. He was not quite sure why that was. Munich, the constant noise, the heat, did not agree with him, and the drugs he had tried quite a few time though not as recurrently as Roger or Freddie probably did not help. Looking at the picture he had taken in a photo booth the previous day, he had to admit it started to show. He looked drawn, gaunt. A few years back, the others would have noticed, but now… It seemed like they were drifting apart. He was not really sure he wanted them to know anyway. He was not really sure what he would tell them. That he was feeling down because the studio they were recording it was a bit stuffy – come on, he scolded himself, get a grip. He had drifted off, as John and Mack were having a technical discussion about something. He noticed Roger looking at him and started to tune his guitar, even though the Red Special did not really need tuning. The drummer looked somewhere else, and Brian thought he had fooled him.

He had not. Roger was very much aware something had been bothering his friend for some time, he had not been his usual self. The drummer did not know what to do. He wanted to find something to cheer him up, but did not want to be too blatant about it, in case Brian did not want his help. The fact that this was a somewhat believable possibility and the fact that it actually influenced his action annoyed the drummer, but he could not help it. The recording started again, and he got caught up in an argument with the very guitarist he was worrying about five minutes earlier. The opposition felt a little bit less strong than usual, which left the drummer oddly frustrated. He actually enjoyed arguing with Brian, most of the time.

A solution presented itself a bit later in the day, as Freddie and Brian were recording something him and John were not needed on. To get less bored, Roger, truthful to his habits had started reading one of the music magazines his PA had bought for him. One of the articles was an interview of Eric Clapton. Roger smiled. That would cheer Brian up. The fact he had not seen it - if he had he would definitely talking about it – confirmed to the drummer his friend was not alright. Roger started reading it. It was even better than he had thought. Clapton was actually talking about Queen’s lead guitarist, saying how talented of a musician and songwriter he thought he was. A large grin spread on Roger’s face. Now, that would work. John looked over Roger’s shoulder and understanding what that was about, also grinned. Roger hid the magazine, they would have to figure out how best to get it to Brian to maximize its effect. And they would have to get Freddie on the plot, of course. They had not needed to discuss why they wanted to do that. They both knew.

They got their chance a bit later. Brian had gone to the bathroom, and so the three other could plot in peace. John called Freddie, and Roger showed him the article. “Oh darling, this is wonderful! Brian deserves the praise! We need to show him right away. God knows he needs it”. So Fred had also noticed, thought John. They all still cared.

“Shhh.” said Roger “We want to make it a surprise”

“Oh, ok, but how?” Asked Freddie.

“I think I have a plan”

As many of Roger’s plan it was uselessly intricate and slightly ridiculous but it did work. After distraction numbers that left Brian slightly puzzled – it included nail polish, an argument about whether androids would make electrical omelets and a request to find peanuts in time for a guitar solo recording – they managed to position the magazine opened on the interview page in his room in a way that meant it would fall on his mirror when he brushed his hair the next morning. Yes, they could have just slid it under the door but it would not have been as fun.

The next day, Freddie, John and Roger were all in the breakfast room pretty early, eagerly waiting for Brian to show up, while pretending to read something. When he did, the huge smile on his face, the spring in his step, and the red on his cheek were sure signs that their cunning plan had worked. That and the fact the guitar player was holding the magazine in his hand.

“Morning, Bri” said Roger “What has you so happy this morning”

Brian’s grin got even bigger, and he showed him and the others the magazine “Look” he said. They all did, and commented on the article, sporting big grins of their own. John found it hard not to giggle. Brian had not wondered much about the presence of the magazine on his mirror – what could he say, his brain did not like mornings – but after a cup of tea, he started wondering.

“I wonder how this got in my room” Then hearing Freddie’s suppressed giggle, he finally understood

“Oh. You put it there.” He looked at his bandmates faces. “All of you”

They all nodded, now laughing openly. “So that’s what Freddie needing help on nail polish in the middle of the night was about!”

They all nodded again, than erupted in laughter.

“Don’t let it get to your head, poodle” commented Roger, but the warm smile on his face betrayed his words.

“You do deserve it, though” added Freddie, and Brian felt his cheeks get even redder, as all the others showed enthusiastic approval. He was chuffed.

The recording process and Munich were wearing him down, sure, and one article would not solve the entirety of his self-doubt, but he now remembered he had friends who would be there to catch him if he stumbled, and he was pretty sure he would be doing much better with this knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very much inspired by the Queen in 3D book (it's a really really cool book, worth every penny I spent on it). In the chapter about "the game" album Brian mentions feeling down and also the Clapton interview making him very happy.   
> I obviously invented the other's role in that.   
> Please tell me if I did something wrong in there. I am also still not beta-read and not a native speaker so...  
> Cheers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Wembley stadium 1986**

Getting out of the limousines that were getting them to the stadium, the four members of Queen walked briskly under the camera flashes, both tense and excited for the night to come. Oh, they had played bigger audiences. Hell, they had even already played Wembley for Live Aid. But this was their home turf, and their own audience, and they felt like champions, with all the pressure to go with it.

* * *

“You ok Deacy?”

They were in the dressing room, five minutes to go before show. John turned around and saw Brian, warmly smiling at him, with a slight look of uncertainty on his face. John looked up into his friend’s eyes, took a last swig of alcohol before the show and nodded, giving the man a thumbs up. The guitar played smiled. John was terrified, and needed a bit of liquid courage, but he had not lied. He was incredibly excited to play, but the last minute stage fright had never really stopped.

A very similar scene was taking place a few meters away. After a long pre-show of warming up their voices and their hands for the music to come, Roger and Freddie had gone quiet, checking the last things before going on.

“Ready Freddie?”

“Always, Rog”

Roger grabbed Freddie into a quick side hug, the singer’s head ending up on his shoulder for an instant.

“You’re up guys!”

They were ready to roll.

* * *

At the first notes of each songs, the whole crowd erupted. The audience was amazing. Singing, cheering. The high it gave them was incredible. Roger thought he should be used to it by now, but he wasn’t. The lights were hot, they were sweating like crazy, and he drummed away in concentration, not missing a beat. He had a good view of the show they were putting on from his drum risers and as Freddie began the intro to Seven Seas of Rhye, giving him a small respite he found himself smiling.

Brian was running around, shaking his hair left and right, looking intently mindful of everything he was doing, the same furrowed expression on his face when a part was a bit technical that he had had when Roger had played with him in Smile all those years ago.

John was dancing away in his little world, his back to the audience more often than not, licking his finger to better the touch on his bass, coordinating with Roger at every turn, the back bone of the songs.

And Freddie, was, well, Freddie. He had the audience in the palm of his had and did whatever he wanted with them. He rolled, threw himself to the ground, wore the most over the top outfit, and it never became ridiculous. And after all these years, and even being a more than decent singer himself, he still was blown away by that voice. Well, the whole world was, but he never tired of hearing his singing. To think that… No, he was not going there. He knew Freddie was sick, it was getting visible on tour for them, and he had quite a good idea what it was. The singer would tell them eventually. But right now, he was incredibly alive, singing away, and Roger enjoyed the moment, giving the high notes the songs required of him with a flourish.

* * *

The bass line to under pressure started, and once again, the whole stadium roared. Freddie looked at his bandmates. John had a very proud, almost smug grin on his face. It was his bass line and he was very proud of it, thank you very much. And yes he had forgotten it once but it would not happen again.

The singing duo with Roger on that song was always a fun time for Freddie. He enjoyed tweaking the harmonies a bit, giving his voice full range and power, and playing along with Roger, who needed all his concentration for the end of the song who was objectively too low for the man’s register. But he always hit the notes nonetheless, with determination and a spirit screaming “it’s not supposed to be possible? So what?”, something that Freddie definitely enjoyed about his drummer.

* * *

They had just improvised something onstage for three minutes, jamming as if they were in the studio, and the audience had roared at their easy coordination, how together they were. Now it was Brian’s time to shine. He was visibly happy to play his solo, and would give all the others time to catch a small break. And John time to grab his peanuts.

As Brian started playing his guitar, John started throwing peanuts at him in a time-honoured tradition Brian had to admit he would sort of miss if it were to stop by now. Freddie and Roger, while refreshing themselves, were laughing at the scene they were so used to by now, and that tonight at least, was meant in good spirit.

Brian noticed after a while the peanuts throwing had stopped. John had probably gone to the bathroom or something he thought, keeping on playing.

Freddie and Roger were finding it hard not to laugh. John was still there, but had stopped throwing stuff at their guitar player, without realizing it. He was actually listening to the solo, and eating the peanuts. Shit, the bastard was good, he thought. Not that he would tell him that. Although a look at his two other bandmates giggling behind him make him think they probably would. Not that he cared, really. And besides, it was really too bad wasting decent peanuts.

* * *

“Cause we are the champions. Of the world”

The last notes of the song faded away, and they bowed to their audience, god save the queen on tape behind them. One last look at their fans, one last guitar presented proudly in the air from Brian, and they were walking offstage, helped by their roadies.

Roger could barely walk in a straight line, he was completely exhausted, his arms hurt, he was extremely sweaty, and higher than what cocaine had ever given him. John was thinking to his wife and children who had listened. They could be proud of their dad. Freddie was more tired than he would usually have been but he thoroughly enjoyed the moment. He knew it was his last tour and he would relish every second of it. Brian was not thinking too much for once. The high of the show let him switch off for a bit and just live the moment to the full.

* * *

In the audience, the people started to walk off in a daze, not wanting the moment to end. It had been quite a night.


	6. Chapter 6

**February 2019. The Oscars**

The set opening the Oscar had gone well, even by their standards. They should not have been surprised, but cinema was not their world, and they did not know how all those actors, movie stars, would react as an audience. Well, like any other Queen audience, really. They had cheered, sung, danced around a bit, known the words and the motions to _We Will Rock You_. That had brought a smile to all of the band members' faces.

And of course, Rami Malek winning the Oscar and making that heartfelt speech had been a wonderful moment. And if Brian had chased a tear of joy from his eyes and Roger had grumbled something about “that overemotional gentle giant” while trying very hard not to shed one himself, well nobody needed to know. They had enjoyed the young actors’ company on set, helping them recreate their quirks and expressions, and they were pretty proud of the result. Roger had quite the admiration for their craft, given that it was something he very emphatically could not do himself. They were used to seeing their story portrayed in media in all sorts of more or less truthful ways. At least, this time, they had had a decent amount of control over the story, the fiction, that was told.

As they walked out of the theatre, Roger and Brian each getting ready to get to their respective hotel rooms with their spouses, exchanged a glance. They did not need to say much to know what they were thinking. What a wonderful night. Oh, if Freddie could have seen it! He would have been delighted. And John. They had not heard from him in a while. He had agreed to the movie, had read the script, but they did not know if he had seen it. They found themselves wishing he had been here.

* * *

John had sat in his room, idly chatting with his wife, pretending not to anxiously wait for the Oscar results. When she had left to do something, smiling at him, he had stayed, looking at his phone. When he saw that the lead actor had won the Oscar, he beamed and put down his phone, going back to the activities of the day.

_A few hours later_

As he walked in the nearby park, John noticed one of his neighbour’s kid, a 10-year-old girl that had come to his house a few times to play with his grandchildren run past him and crumble on a nearby bench, obviously crying. She put her headphones over her head, started bouncing her head to a music John could not hear and a small smile crept back on her face between the tears.

As a father of six, John had quite an extensive experience with crying children and he was not a man to leave without help a genuinely distressed-looking kid. He walked to the child, and not wanting to spook her said “Hey, Jenny. You ok? May I sit here?”

The kid nodded. John sat. As the girl kept on listening to her music, John did not try to talk to her, giving her some time to recover before asking her any question. The music seemed to work because after a couple of minutes, she looked up and smiled at him.

“What is it you’re listening to?” He asked. “Is it any good?”

“Hmm Hmm” She said, then, she took one of her earbuds out at gave it to John. “Want to listen?”

“Thanks” he said, carefully getting the apparatus in his ear.

_I want to break free from your lies, you’re so self-satisfied, I don’t need you_

Oh. He thought. He was not expecting a 10-year all girl in 2019 to try and introduce him to his own song from more than three decades ago.

“It’s a good song" she said. then added “And I really don’t need Cory. He’s an idiot, and I can do better.”

He smiled “I’m sure you can”. Then curious. “This is a pretty old song. How come you listen to it?”

“I saw the movie” she said.

She showed her another few of her favourite songs, that were from other, more recent artists, and then, feeling better, she said: “I’ll go home now. Thank you Mr Deacon”

“All right, Jenny. Take care”

She walked away. In the middle of her way home, she finally connected the dots. She checked on the internet on her phone. Yes, the bassist from Queen was called John Deacon, and looked very much like a younger version of her nice neighbour. She had never turned that red her entire life.

John after staying on the bench for a few minutes was walking home smiling. That movie was getting them new listeners he thought. And if his song could make a kid happy, he had made a few things right. Maybe he should say something about it.

* * *

A few days later, in England, Brian and Roger were meeting in the guitar player’s home for the afternoon, just to spend some time together, and maybe to talk of the upcoming tour. The success of the movie had brought them a lot of money, and also many new, younger fans. They were looking forward to meeting those on tour.

Brian had mentioned he was awaiting an update on some foxes that had just been rescued in a bad shape, and had therefore left his phone on, on the table. Roger had huffed, but said nothing about it. Yes, they would argue – they were going to, obviously, but on that particular subject, and for this one time, the drummer decided to not start one. He knew how important that was for his friend.

His resolution only applied to that particular topic however, and a quarter of an hour later, the volume of their voices was getting louder:

“No, Brian. Prawns are not an appropriate food to put in an omelet. For god’s sake the eggs mask the taste of the thing and you just get weird, salty, mushy eggs. It’s wrong. I mean I have French children. I do know a thing or to about proper ways of cooking things.”

Before Brian had any time to find any response to the ridiculous argument, his phone chimed. Roger huffed annoyedly, and Brian threw him a glare, picking up his phone. He was dreading some bad news about the foxes, it was too early to be any good ones. But instead, his phone screen showed John’s phone number under the text alert.

“It’s John” he said. Then after a pause, realizing they knew several men name John, all of whom probably talked to them more often than this one he added: “Deacy, I mean.”

“Oh.” said Roger, his face staying neutral.

Then Brian opened the text and an expression of surprised joyed grew on his face. He showed it to Roger. It read:

“Congratulations for the Oscar. Good movie. This young chap played Fred well. Thank you. – John”

* * *

The text put the two in an even better mood. After they answered John’s message, the rest of the two rockers afternoon was spent amicably. They talked about Freddie and John for a while, remembering their good times, and avoiding talking too much about the bad. In the end, they veered off, and their next arguments included the value of hybrid cars, the merits and inconvenient of e-books and the compared beauty of various cities in Europe. They found themselves smiling through most of it. And the foxes were alright. So they argued about what name should be given to the rescue. No agreement was reached when Roger left to go home that night. That was a decent excuse to see each other again soon. Not that they needed any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks !  
> So that was it ! Hope you enjoyed. Seems like I can write something not fully angsty after all. Thanks to the people who read/left kudos/commented (quirkysubject, thanks so much).   
> I'm working on two stories at the moment, hope to manage to finish them at some point.   
> Cheers


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